She's Got You High
by EllaColette
Summary: (Three-Shot/Songfic) It took him six years—six long years—to come to terms with his feelings towards this woman. And just as things were beginning, he had managed to put it all to a screeching halt. It only took one night. One night, after six years, to screw it all up. ShizuoxOC
1. Chapter 1

This would be the second time she left him, swept away in the back of a speeding car. He could've stopped her, but he wasn't sure if she would be so inviting this time around. "_Dammit,"_ he hissed, "_dammit, dammit, dammit!"_ He clutched at the roots of his blonde locks in frustration.

Tom showed up then, placing a cautious hand on his companion's shoulder. "Let's go." Shizuo had hardly heard him, his feet mechanically following his boss's order. His shaking hand fumbled to draw a cigarette from the pack within his breast pocket. When it rested, quivering but steadily, between his lips, he made to grab his lighter, but it fell between his trembling fingers.

"_Dammit!"_ He crushed the unlit thing between his index and thumb, discarded it harshly to the ground. He dug the heels of his hands into his eye sockets as a low, grumbling sound vibrated in his chest, erupting into a full out roar of infuriation.

He knew Tom was saying something to him but he just couldn't make out the words. How could he be so careless? It wasn't often that he met someone who didn't tremble in fear in his presence, much less a woman. And yet, there she was, a woman who not only trusted his ability to control his awesome strength but also admired his will to try. In the notorious city of Ikebukuro, they had grown accustomed to people of power to use it in such dirty ways. And although Shizuo's employment was hardly a job of a saint, he only meant for his power to help Tom collect debts, not to elicit violence. And she knew that, perhaps just as well as his employer.

But he messed up. It took him six years—six long years—to come to terms with his feelings towards this woman. And just as things were beginning, he had managed to put it all to a screeching halt. It only took one night. One night, after six years, to screw it all up.

Shiori was never quite like the other girls Shizuo had encountered. She preferred the company of books rather than that of gossipers. She favored finding things out on her own to "facts" carried by word of mouth. She would gladly settle for a night-in, wearing nothing but an oversized shirt and panties, watching a classic film adaptation of a novel, eating vanilla ice cream straight from the tub, instead of dancing and drinking the night away. She was something else, something Shizuo didn't fully comprehend but appreciated to have stuck with him for as long as she had.

She had loved him from the moment she had met him. He reminded her so much of the grieving characters from the novels her button nose were always buried in. He was real; a suffering human being who's flaws wouldn't allow him to fit properly in society. He was out of the norm like any hero of a classic tale. And she was mesmerized by him.

He enjoyed the girl's company but never realized her feelings towards himself. She was a sweet but timid thing, carefully tending to his wounds when he was hurt, lighting his cigarette solemnly when he was too enraged to get the lighter to work, waiting for him in the corner booth of the bar with a book as she waited for him to close shop so that he wouldn't be without company on his walk home. Only when she stopped showing up to the bar was when he realized the truth behind Shiori's actions.

She had planned to be gone before he was due back home. They lived in neighboring apartment complexes, and she was sure he would spot her if he were to return home from work early. She thought she had given herself enough time to have packed and disappeared, but when the blonde slowly strolled up the sidewalk and into plain sight, she realized that maybe she had hoped he would catch her before she left.

When he reached her, he stopped and flicked the dying cigarette butt to the ground, stomping it out completing beneath the sole of his shoe. She avoided eye contact as she mumbled a feeble "hello," shifting the weight of a cardboard box between her arms.

"What are you doing?" He reached to hold the box for her but she stepped away.

"I'm leaving," she said simply, her eyes flickering towards the road in search of a certain yellow ride. "I can't…I can't stand to be here any longer." She waited for him to respond, chancing a glance at his face.

He said nothing for a moment before going for the box again. "Let me…"

"No," she snapped, snatching the box out of his reach and scowling up at the towering man. "I can do this on my own. I don't need your help."

He just stood there and slipped his hands into the pockets of his trousers. She waited. And waited. And waited, hoping that like the countless novels she had read, he would take hold of her and shake some sense into her, telling her that he wouldn't let her leave because he…

Because what? Because he loved her?

Life wasn't like the books she so much adored. Nothing like them at all. Should she have been disappointed that her story didn't turn out how she had hoped for it to? Should she have been so heartbroken that when the taxi rolled up to where they stood, Shizuo neither held the door open for her as she clambered in to the back seat nor attempted to change her mind about leaving altogether? That's not how life worked. And as the car peeled away, the blonde too realized this.

He had lost the one companion who fearlessly stood by his side without the utterance of a single "goodbye." He had let her leave without fully understanding the strength of her presence. He felt it when he struggled to tie off the ends to his wound dressings. He felt it when he fumbled with the lighter during a fit of fury, incapable of lighting a cigarette to soothe his frustrations. But he especially felt it when the bar closed down at night and there was only himself on the quiet walk home, and further, no one to share the tub of ice cream with over an old movie he didn't care to watch yet again.

As the years slipped by, his only wish was to forget. So, as disappointed as he was to lose his job at the bar through the flea's handiwork, he was at the same time relieved to never again have to look up between drying glasses to find the corner booth occupied by someone not pushing their glasses up to the bridge of their nose, flipping through pages of a worn out book. And when it came to fights, he found a simpler method to caring for the injuries: duct tape or super glue. Yet there was one unavoidable memory of her, lingering there as he sunk into the couch and flipped on the television. The absence a turning page; the little gasps she'd make at the turn of events within her literature; simply, he missed her. He missed her just being there and there was no denying that.

So instead of pushing away the memory of her, he turned to slowly embrace it. He would sit in that booth at the bar as if patiently waiting for her to appear. He would rent out films he remembered she fawned over, watching them in nothing but a tee shirt and his boxers, a tub of vanilla ice cream half-eaten before he fell asleep to the movie. And with his final attempt to recreate her, he found himself in a quiet little bookstore, wandering aimlessly through the tight aisles for something to catch his eye.

What he didn't expect to capture his attention was a glimpse of cleavage from a woman bent over, searching through a lower shelf in the next aisle over. He didn't mean to stare but was rather dumbfounded that his luck would bestow him with that sight when he removed a novel he recalled Shiori reading once before. But his luck was short lived when the woman snapped upright, obviously pleased with the book she had drawn. _Dammit_. She blinked owlishly, having caught Shizuo staring. And then she said something that completely caught him off guard.

"Shizuo?"

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED...**


	2. Chapter 2

The clock was ticking much too loud. And there was a faucet leaking somewhere, he knew, by the resounding _drip...drop...drip...drop_ playing over and over again, bringing about an aching headache. But nothing seemed to be of much importance to the blonde as he lay back upon the much too small bed in his apartment room, eyes glazed over with memories gnawing at the confines of his mind. He groaned with displeasure, throwing his arm over his face, tucking it into the bend. How many days now had it been since the accident? He wasn't too sure. He had managed to burn through three packs of cigarettes and the answering machine in the kitchen beeped on the hour, announcing that it was much too full to take any more messages. His cell phone was discarded, presumably dead by now, somewhere in the corner of the room. It was always a voice he wasn't interested in hearing. And the one that he yearned for, he was afraid, would never utter a single word to him again, much less his name.

One night, he thought. After all those years, it took one night for it all to go down the drain. He sucked in a deep breath, rubbing his face in frustration before smoothing his hands through his dirty hair. Perhaps it was time for shower; he did reek of smoke, after all. And the scalding water would certainly clear his mind.

So he undressed and stepped into the steam, allowing his flesh to redden with the incredible heat. He sighed heavily, resting his forearm against the wall and leaned against it, allowing the stream from the shower head to wash away the filth from his scalp and body. He rested there for a moment and grimaced, catching himself in yet another memory where his petite companion reached in one day, and lowered the temperature, scolding him for his impatience in finding a comfortable setting. He remembered how her cheeks flushed with color at the realization that he was completely nude and her only shield was a small, white towel, her glasses rested upon the counter. But that face, he had never loved it more, the way it exuded such rawness, such humanness. And yet again, the blonde found himself deeply emerged in the memory of Shiori.

Shiori was never quite like the other girls. That, Shizuo knew very well. But he never expected to be so caught off guard by the modifications her appearance had taken. Her cropped jet black hair cascaded down to her waist in reddish-brown locks. Her porcelain-like flesh had seen many hours in the sun, or perhaps, the inside of a tanning booth. Her figure, which had always been akin to that of a teenage boy, had acquired miraculous curves and he was sure that they were brought by way of knife. But the one thing that remained that confirmed this new image to be the girl of his past was her eyes, hidden behind rimmed glasses, almond shaped and hazel in color.

He knew it was her then, by the way she clutched the book tightly to her chest. Although she could change the way she had looked, the old Shiori's mannerisms were still too loud, much to the blonde's delight. She was cordial-as always-and timid, of course, as she gave a feeble _hello,_ making way to the register to pay for the new addition to her library. He didn't hear himself reply but was sure that he did, following after her. The cashier, in fear of the supposed brute, cashed him out first, turning the girl's attention to the book Shizuo had selected.

"The Story of Orpheus and Eurydice?" Her eyebrows perked up in interested, goading him to elaborate. The cashier began to ring her out but her attention remained on her old friend. He scratched the back of his head almost bashfully as he explained that he recalled her reading it at some point of time. She received her change and headed out the door, Shizuo walking right beside her. She paused just outside and turned to look him right in the eye. "It's a love story, you know," she said slowly, shifting her weight from foot to foot. "Orpheus falls in love with Eurydice, but he loses her."

The way his heart beat in his chest, the way he had to contain himself from licking his lips. He couldn't hold the urge any longer. He couldn't let her go; he wouldn't allow her the opportunity to do so yet again. He had suffered, and he had suffered enough and he'd be damned if he didn't at least try to make her stay this time.

So before she could say another word, he captured her face, gently but urgently, between his two hands, crushing his lips against her's in such a way he was sure the scene would rival any of those his brother had portrayed in any romantic film. She was rigid, caught completely by surprise but melted into it, throwing her arms around his neck, holding him close. That was it, the moment she had dreamed of for so many years. She had read countless tales of heroes and heroines and love and fantasy, and for once, her life was playing out so much better than she had ever dreamed.

But little did the two know that Shizuo had been too little, too late.

They had lived contentedly, just as they had before. They would be spotted at a restaurant, corner booth, as the male stopped the bleeding from an infliction with superglue, and the girl would shake her head, pushing her glasses back to their proper place on her nose. On weekday nights, they could be found on that old couch with a tub of ice cream between the two of them, the only subjects of interest being whatever kept Shiori turning that book and Shizuo watching as her expressions changed and when she caught him staring, the way she'd laugh or blush.

But something slowly came to his attention, and it certainly didn't feel right.

Shiori was never what one would call a "weekend girl." He only remembered every night out was spent waiting for him to close up the bar and walk home to watch some film adaptation of his novel that he was simply not interested in. But now, this time around, he rarely saw her even in the daylight. He never asked and she never told him, but the question still remained.

So one Thursday, as the evening was coming to a close, Shizuo stopped Shiori from leaving his apartment. "It's late," he said, "Don't walk home. You'll get yourself kidnapped." Yet she still shrugged herself into her jacket, flashing him a small smile.

"Don't worry, Shizuo-kun; it's not far. I'll be fine." She headed towards the door. He rose then, reaching over her as she pulled the front door open, his hand placed firmly on it, sealing it shut. His face was etched with mild annoyance and she smiled. "What's got you so worried, huh? Or do you want me to stay so sorely?" He scoffed and she laughed, slowly edging out of her coat. She folded it over her arms, standing on tip-toes to place a tender kiss on her lover's cheek. She hovered by his ear for a moment. "I'll stay, but I must leave in the morning, alright?" He huffed but was pleased to be pulled back to the bedroom by the girl.

Just as she said, she had left him in the morning with a note to return for lunch the next day. He never knew what kept her so busy but didn't bother to find out. Thankfully, he was occupied with consistent work throughout the day, so it made the next day seem that much closer to him. But as the sun began to set behind the city towers, the nightlife slowly crept out, infesting the streets with drunken folly and ruckus. He was still working, with only one last debt to collect.

They headed towards an alley, to the side door entrance to some club or bar. They weren't greeted too kindly, but were allowed to enter nonetheless. They were ushered to a lavish private room, shrouded over with a cloud of smoke. There were women walking on skyscraper heels wearing sequinned lingerie or even nothing at all. The man they were meeting with, Kato Izanagi, was seated between two of these promiscuous women, enjoying a cigar as Shizuo and Tom were guided in. When he noticed them, he grinned, spreading his arms wide in an effort to invite the men in on the play.

Tom and Izanagi immediately got to business, discussing matters over glasses of brandy and the same two women, craving the men's attention as they caressed the men's arms or chest here or there. Shizuo just stood by, choosing to light up a cigarette and watching to make sure the situation stayed under control. At that moment, a giggling dancer came stumbling in with a tray of cigars in her hand. She noticed the blonde and skipped on over to him.

"Ah, Heiwajima Shizuo!" The woman's breath reeked of alcohol although the dazed look in her eyes made him suspect she was under the influence of multiple drugs. After all, how could anyone, much less a woman, be so fearless in their approach to the man? "How nice it is to see you here! We never thought you'd come!~" She tilted her head to the side in a sweet manner. "Could I offer you a drink? Or perhaps a dance?" She set the tray on the table in front of her manager then, snatching at Shizuo's wrist and tugging at him. Tom called after her, but the Izanagi waved it off, insisting that it was on the house and to let Shizuo have his fun.

Shizuo pulled his hand free and took a quick drag from his cigarette. He could already feel the quickening of his pulse and hoped the nicotine would soothe the oncoming rage. But the girl was persistent, tugging him so forcefully into the next private room over, stumbling over her heels and falling safely onto the plush seating. The cigarette in his hold snapped in two and he willed his anger to remain contained. But the girl giggled dumbly, clambering to her feet and swiping at him again. He side stepped only for his shoe to catch the rug and he tripped, falling back just the same as the girl had moments before. She wasted no time in mounting him, a devilish smirk playing at her lips.

"Was that so hard?~" Her teasing only confirmed it in Shizuo's mind that she was ready to die. In the next second, he had intended to take the girl by the front of her bra and toss her out of the room, flying. But as his hand curled around the front of her bra, her fingers released the clasp from the back, exposing her entirely to not only him, but also to two other eyes that had pulled the private room's curtain back.

"Shizuo?"

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED...**


	3. Chapter 3

The way the name fell past her lips reminded him of the way ice cracked, slowly and then all at once. He was rooted into the uncompromising position, only wishing that it was a dream or he had the ability to even speak so as to explain himself.

But there she was, conceiving the scene as one would suspect from the brothel in which she was an employee of. She stood in her glass like heels, her lingerie sparkling like the diamonds slowly falling from her eyes. Shiori was never quite like the other girls. So when her dream of some Casanova to pull her from her fantasy world fell through, she chose to never be denied by a man again and to be loved, admired, wanted so earnestly by all but easily evading capture.

And then there he was, staring at her in disbelief beneath her drunk and naked coworker, his mouth trembling as it searched for the right word to say. But it was much too late, the damage was done, and the cat was most certainly out of the bag. But he didn't care. It was her, it was Shiori and he'd be damned if he let her slip away yet again.

In the next instant, Shiori was running back into the main rooms, shoving past the drunken men and dancers. Shizuo had shoved the girl off of him, bolting after her with no regards to the people he was trampling over. He called after her and she screamed a _"no!"_ back, shoving mercilessly through the crowd. But he caught up to her and grabbed her by the arms, spinning her around the face him.

"Will you just listen?" He screamed, his hold tightening on her arms.

"Shizuo, that hurts," she warned, squirming in his hold. "Let go of me!"

"Not until you listen!" And if he was at his tipping point before, he was well past it now. The main entrance slid open, and even in the dim lighting, Shizuo could make out a certain fur trim. He could see the lips tug up at the corner with a sneer before it disappeared into the crowd, begging for him to follow. All he saw was red, all he felt was hatred. And he felt the low grumble erupt in his chest as he bellowed out his name, _"IZ-ZAY-YA!"_

Shizuo began pounding his head against the wall of his shower. _"So stupid, so stupid, so stupid,"_ he cursed to himself. How could he have been so stupid?

He had allowed his temper to get the best of him and as a result, he lost her completely. He recalled yanking the jukebox straight from its hold on the wall and throwing it towards the informant. He remembered the people rushing out as he swung at the flea with a pub table. He even recollected the way the balls fell from their holes as he lifted the pool table and chucked it at the stage where Izaya basked the light. But what he couldn't for the life of him remember how he left Shiori. Or moreover, how his rage blinded him in that moment and he shoved her with incredible force towards the bar. He didn't see her stumble over her high heels, and further, he hadn't seen her fall to the ground, hitting her head on the corner of the bar as she did.

The last thing he remembered of his lover was the way she lay limply on the stretcher as the paramedics loaded her up into the ambulance. She looked so weak and pale in that moment, and his eyes met hers briefly. Her hand trembled as it rose from her side before he was abruptly cut off from her with the closing of the vehicle's doors. He heard the paramedic's asking if anyone was related to her, looking for someone who would ride with her to the hospital. He was looking for someone who would be responsible for her. But Shizuo couldn't find the words and allowed the van to peel away, siren screeching as it faded in the distance.

He cut off the water and stepped out of the shower. He swiped the fog away from the mirror and stared back at his reflection. Perhaps he was this monster everyone made him out to be. He sighed, snatching a towel from the rack, managing to pull the rack from the wall altogether. He growled in frustration, throwing the damn thing into the bedroom before roughly drying himself and slinging the towel around his waist. But when he had tossed the rod into the room, a yelp had sounded and instantly infuriated the blonde. An intruder? Really?

As he stormed out of the steaming restroom, however, he found that yes, it was indeed an intruder, but it was hardly one to get worked up about.

"Yo!" Shinra gave a wave of his hand, a big smile on his face. Behind him, Celty quickly typed away at her cell phone. She held it out for Shizuo to read a moment later.

_"You haven't been answering our calls—"_ She took it back and began typing again. _"We suspected the worst. But decided to stop by first. Sorry."_

Shizuo scoffed pushing the two out of his bedroom and briskly dressing to join them in his living room. "Now that you've seen that I'm alive, _go_."

"Ah ah ah, Shizuo! Since you haven't been able to take messages we were asked to deliver one ourselves!" At that, the underground doctor removed a note from his coat's breast pocket and waved it in front of the blonde's face. He snatched it from his hold, a sinking feeling coming to his core as he recognized the scrawl. "Don't look so mortified! She seemed rather pleased to learn that you hadn't been sitting in jail for the past three days!"

So that was it? Three days? Shizuo tucked the note into his pocket before giving the doctor and dullahan a nod of his head in thanks. He held the door open, motioning for them to be on their way. Celty paused at the door, holding her device out to read.

_"She isn't so damaged and like Shinra said, she was relieved to hear you were doing fine—_" She snatched it back, typing at it again. _"Go see her. She's been asking for you."_ With that, the dullahan left Shizuo to his thoughts, thoughts that raced at thousands of miles per hour.

Did she really want to see him? How would she react? Was she mad? Or was she embarrassed of being found out? There were so many questions that needed to be answered. And as they rushed about through his mind, Shizuo found himself standing right outside the hospital, staring up at the white flag above, snapping in the wind. He took a deep breath and headed inside, walking up to the front desk and asking for directions towards her room.

He paused outside the door, hand hovering over the handle. Should he have bought flowers? Maybe a balloon? That's what people on the television always did. He stepped back, head flicking back and forth wondering in which direction the gift shop would be.

The door before him opened and closed, revealing a nurse. "Oh, are you lost?" she asked as she filed some papers in the folder in her arm. Shizuo didn't really know what to say. He was just simply buying time really. "Oh, maybe you're here for Shiori? She actually just woke up." The nurse held the door open then, stepping aside to let him in. "She's in the second bed."

He nodded and slowly crept inside. What would he say? There was so much but where to start? The apology first? Or how about the explanation? Before he could decide, there she was, those hazel eyes peering up at him from behind the lens. She looked less pale than he remembered and yet, a more subtle bronze than when he met her for the second time. Her figure seemed smaller, perhaps because of the poor diet for the last few days. But there was a warmth about her, something he hadn't felt completely in a while. Everything was on the table.

In the story of Orpheus and Eurydice, Orpheus lost Eurydice after she died from fatal snake bites. As he mourned for her, he played sad songs and sang in such a manner that all the nymphs and gods wept along with him. Orpheus then turned to Hades and Persephone, managing to be the only person able to soften their hearts so that they allowed Eurydice to return to the upper world with him. He had lost her once, and his only condition to not lose her again was that he wouldn't look at her until they reached the surface. But he did and he lost her forever.

Shizuo lost Shiori once before due to his own blindness. And then, he supposed he lost her a second time to his carelessness, and he was sure that he had lost her just as Orpheus had lost Eurydice. But Shiori wasn't quite like the other girls Shizuo had ever encountered. So when he opened his mouth to speak, a sigh slipped past her lips. She smiled with a small shake of her head and simply said,

"_Shizuo."_

* * *

_She's got you high and you don't even know yet, she's got you high and you don't even know yet. It's the search for the time before it leaves without you. Have you lost your mind or has she taken all of yours too? Whats this about? I figured love would shine through. We've lost romance this world, it's turned so see through. Open your mind, believe it's going to come true. Keep romance alive and hope she's going to tell you. She's got you high and you don't even know yet, she's got you high and you don't even know yet. The sun's in the sky, it makes for happy endings. You can't deny you want your happy ending._

_She's got you high._

_-Mumm-ra_

* * *

**THE END**


End file.
